


Paradise with whipped cream

by sugarpie10



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Brendon prepares breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, Height Differences, Kissing, M/M, Whipped Cream, they are in love and horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarpie10/pseuds/sugarpie10
Summary: “This morning, with her, having coffee.”– Johnny Cash, when asked for his definition of paradise.....and Dallon feels the same about Brendon.





	

Brendon was never an early bird which might have been because of the lifestyle he followed. He would ordinarily wake up at 10-11 am, depending on how tight his schedule was, but even with a concert on the line, he could spend his whole day beneath the covers.  
Right now, however, because of the holiday tour-break, he finally got the chance to go to bed early, thanks to Dallon and his series. He decided to start watching some at 8 pm in hope of finishing five episodes before midnight. Brendon never considered himself a sci-fi enthusiast, so he simply got his share by curling into the crook of Dallon's neck, lulled into a peaceful sleep by the bassist's slow caressing.  
Maybe that's why he snapped awake at 8 in the morning, lively as if he had been sleeping for weeks on end. The buzzing static on the TV screen showed that Dallon, unlike the singer, watched it for as long as he possibly could. He reached for the remote and turned it off, but found himself distracted by the sleeping man's face.  
A satisfied smile made its way across his features upon seeing Dallon's messy head, resting on his shoulder with his lips parted ever-so-slightly. The blanket came up just far enough to cover his navel, his legs laying across the bed, making the sweatpants - now used as pajama bottoms - to tighten over his ass in all the right ways.  
Brendon adored mornings like these. He was a night owl, but the mornings he would wake up early and get the chance to watch the unconscious performance the other provided him, even if only for a handful of minutes, he wouldn't trade them for the world. The bassist reached for the blanket in attempt to tug it over his chest in his half-hazed state, carding his long fingers through his wild hair to brush a few strands that were tickling his nose out of his face. Brendon let out a silent sigh and bit his lip. Other times, he would've crawled closer as quietly as possible to sweetly drag his lips over his neck, up to his ear and repeat the motion until Dallon would finally pull him into his arms to then groggily question why he was already awake this early.  
For now, however, he had other plans. Even if the temptation to pester the slumbering bassist until he would eventually kick the blanket off of himself was growing stronger with each passing second, he uncharacteristically forced the urge away and quietly snuck off the bed.  
The soft carpet and tegula were warmed by underfloor heating so for now, he just slipped into the same sweater he wore yesterday (one he borrowed from Dallon's closet at the start of their relationship), then made his way towards the kitchen with silent steps.  
Brendon was never the type to bustle around in the kitchen often, and there was a good reason to that. For one, he could only throw together breakfasts that were on the more simpler side, considering that he never really got around to cooking all too often. On the other hand, he loved watching Dallon as the lean, hefty man occupied the kitchen, the apron stretching over his hips. These times, he would usually devour him with hungry eyes while leaning on the counter, at least until the person of his desires would eventually put him on dish-washing duty, claiming that he should make himself useful, instead of sending all kinds of sexual vibes towards him with his gaze. Brendon didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that he would have to simultaneously clean dishes while continuing his dirty little games that usually resulted in a 30-minute delay of their lunch because Dallon just couldn't stand not letting himself give in to the temptation and ended up dragging him into their bedroom.  
His wandering thoughts sent a smile to his face, while he started digging ingedients up from the fridge, humming one of Frank Sinatra's classics under his breath. Throwing some pancakes together wasn't rocket science. After coming across a pack of assorted fruits in the freezer, he decided it would be the most practical way to avoid making the kitchen look like a tornado's aftermath and still make it seem like he sweat blood and tears to prepare a morning meal for his heart's beloved.  
He slapped the ingredients together with lightning speed, singing replacing his hushed whistling and by the time he slid the sixth pancake onto the plate, he had completely lost track of time. He never would've thought that he could eventually become such fond of this part of a domestic lifestyle, however, by now, he couldn't have wished for anything cozier. His adoration only grew stronger when he heard quiet shuffling from the bedroom's general direction and managed to squeeze some whipped cream over the stack of pancakes towering in front of him just in time before Dallon drowsily leaned his messy head against the doorframe.  
\- Good morning! You're right on time - Brendon grinned at the bassist, wiping his hands into the black apron that would normally be used by the other.  
The singer tugged it off himself, and with a hop and a jump he pressed a button on the coffee-maker. Dallon waved at him in responce while huffing out a yawn and Brendon's entirety burst into tingles. He could not, for the love of god, figure out how someone could be so sexy even in the morning, in the most everyday setting of them all. He hungrily lingered his gaze over the other's bare torso and when Dallon turned to him while leaning against the counter and gave him a kiss accompanied by a hum, as if simply wanting to yield his surveys.  
\- I love waking up to your rustling and humming. What did you make? - murmured the bassist, gratefully talking into his mouth.  
\- Pancakes and coffee for the world's hottest man - stated Brendon proudly and turned his face towards him, eagerly awaiting compliments for his struggles.  
\- He's here? And I'm not even dressed yet! - Dallon grinned, pressing a chaste kiss onto the singer's cheek who could hardly bear with holding himself from turning towards him and stroking his lips for just a few more seconds.  
\- You're such an idiot sometimes.  
The faint hissing of the coffee-maker snapped them out of their morning haze. The scent of freshly-brewn coffee and delicious pancakes fogged up the kitchen as Dallon followed Brendon's short frame with loving eyes while he started gathering a few plates from a cupboard, standing on his tiptoes.  
Ever since they met, he couldn't get enough of Brendon. His energy, his short stature that battled his charismatic character and the way Brendon looked at him. In general, his entire self. To Dallon, Brendon was the soul of perfectness and the fact that, strangely, he awaited him with breakfast and let him sleep in - not that he minded any even if when he didn’t -, only heated the flame inside his chest.  
The singer started cursing below his breath when the coffee-maker burnt his finger and Dallon's lips curled into a mocking but fond smile as he put his mug down.  
\- Thanks, baby - he said, leaning on his elbows as he leaned over the counter to toy with Brendon's plump lips.  
Dallon didn't seem to mind the fact that his coffee was starting to get dangerously cold, he liked his coffee cold anyways, so he took his time to enjoy these few minutes of kissing Brendon over and over again, getting lost in him, their clashing tongues filling the once silent kitchen with wet, passionate noises.  
\- Hmmm - he hummed, pulling away with a satisfied look in his eyes, poking the singer with his nose.  
\- Hmm? - Brendon asked, peeking at him over the rim of his mug while sliding a plate of pancakes in front of Dallon, topped with fruits and whipped cream.  
\- This morning, with him, having coffee. This is my definition of paradise - the bassist answered, smiling.  
\- This is Johnny Cash's paradise - Brendon added with a laugh and snatched a piece of strawberry off the other’s plate, who followed his every move with adoring eyes. - But I appreciate that, I love the idea and it sounds amazing. Plus, I agree - he said, playfully popping the piece of fruit into his mouth while hopping onto a bar stool.  
\- Isn't this my plate? - Dallon commented while reaching for Brendon's lips to wipe some cream off the corner. The singer's entire body shuddered at the touch, playfully snapping his jaw at his finger. Dallon managed to snatch his hand away just in time, but couldn't restrain himself from licking the whipped cream off it, all while keeping steady eyecontact.  
\- And now you'll take your revenge by killing me? - asked the singer, letting out an overdramatic sigh followed by a mischievous laugh.  
\- I have no idea what you're talking about. - The bassist repeated the action, this time with a dallop of cream straight from the top of his pancakes. Brendon exhaled sharply and tried his best to stop the approaching, vivid mental image of Dallon doing the same, except in their bedroom. He failed miserably.  
\- Speaking of which, I always wondered - Brendon started, taking a bite of his breakfast, keeping his eyes on the sex god sitting in front of him -, what would've been if Johnny Cash and Frank Sinatra were to share a bedroom.  
\- They fell into a burning ring of fire, in New York New Yoooork - Dallon sang, imitating the two singers' tambers as a way to demonstrate the concept he built.  
\- God, I love you - Brendon said, laughing.  
He impaled a piece of pancake onto his fork and reached it towards Dallon who accepted without a second of hesitation, and repeated the same thing with his own.  
\- I don't get why we even have seperate plates - he teased.  
\- Because this is too sweet, we might need to get some pickles after this - Brendon answered, scooping off another piece off Dallon's plate.  
\- With the whipped cream? Interesting - the bassist scoffed, flicking Brendon's nose so he would get off his breakfast.  
\- No, I have other plans with the whipping cream - the singer purred back, throwing a meaningful look at the other.  
Dallon rolled the blueberry with his tongue without blinking, all while picturing of every inch of Brendon's perfect body that he could lick the cream off. The aftermath of his fantasies - the growing sexual frustration - must've showed on his features because Brendon slurred out a dirty answer without missing a beat:  
\- Plans like those.  
Their eyes immediately met and the way Brendon started wiping the leftover cream off his plate with his finger made it seem like he moved in slow motion, before pointing it at Dallon. The bassist didn't break eyecontact for even a second while curling his tongue around the singer's fingers, making Brendon shiver to his core, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight just a moment later.  
\- If you keep that up, I won't be able to finish my breakfast. But I can guarantee that you won't either - Dallon indicated, but knew well enough that the other wouldn't mind that at all. Brendon stole the last piece of strawberry off his plate with a cocky grin and placed it onto his tongue in the most seductive way possible. Maybe just to spite the guitarist who seemed to be especially responsive this morning.  
\- You have your own fruit, don't you? - Dallon asked while rising to his feet alarmingly slowly, maybe as a warning, before walking around the counter. He turned Brendon's bar stool towards him while towering over the singer.  
\- Yours taste better.  
\- Of course it does - Dallon said, handing the easy victory to the singer who started fluttering his lashes at the bassist, leaning alarmingly close to him.  
He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. Dallon slid his hands over the waist of the sweater he once owned, pouring all of his emotions into his every action. He truly had no idea how he could survive without Brendon for so long, and didn't even want to consider a future without him.  
He never loved anyone the way he loved Brendon. To him, he was like coffee in the morning. Exhilirating yet soothing, sweetly silken yet decisively powerful, and satisfaction itself after a long day.  
Brendon beamed into the kiss while squeezing some whipped cream into Dallon's parted mouth, which the bassist playfully spread across his face in responce.  
Johnny Cash was right. Nothing could ever beat mornings spent with the person you cherish the most. Someone you can laugh with while still taking eachother seriously. And if that person is willing to tug you towards your shared bedroom, one hand clutching a can of whipped cream, well, Dallon was certain he couldn't ever wish for more.

**Author's Note:**

> The story has been written in an other language /english is not my native language/ and has been transleted so if you are find any mistake in it, please forgive it! Thanks for reading <3


End file.
